


I can't believe you did it again

by Amymel86



Series: Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Ficlet, Tumblr Prompt, canon au setting, dialogue prompt, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 15:43:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16411316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: Her rooms were quiet apart from the crackle of the hearth and the snores of Ghost who seems to have taken residence here. Jon swallowed as he watched her work. He’d never admit to it, but there was some enjoyment to be had from being fussed over by Sansa, and he thought it worth every scratch and scar he had coming his way.





	I can't believe you did it again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bythunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bythunder/gifts).



> I asked for dialogue prompts over on tumblr and this is the first that I received - from the lovely @jeynewesterling :)
> 
> The second part was originally meant to be a self-contained little snippet as an alternative fill - but I guess it could be considered within the same au - only much much later.

"I can't believe you did it again."

Jon twisted his mouth, trying to contain his amusement. “I didn’t do anything. It was Arya that-”

“Well then you shouldn’t be challenging her. You know how quick she is with that blade, and it’s not as though she goes easy on you either,” Sansa tutted to herself and dipped the cotton cloth into the warm water that was now swirling with crimson.

Jon winced again when she swiped it over the nick on his cheekbone. His little sister - for she would always be a sister to him, no matter the truth - could carve him up like a feasting ham if she so wanted. “It’s good for me to practice,” he grunted, allowing Sansa to tilt his head just so, the dusky light from the window helping her with her efforts. She only hummed in response, her skirts brushing his shins where she edged closer.

Her rooms were quiet apart from the crackle of the hearth and the snores of Ghost who seems to have taken residence here. Jon swallowed as he watched her work. He’d never admit to it, but there was some enjoyment to be had from being fussed over by Sansa, and he thought it worth every scratch and scar he had coming his way.

She worked diligently adding some ointment of some sort, her sky blue eyes searching for any further hurts for her to put right. 

Sometimes she’d sing in a voice low and sweet. Those were the times that he’d feel lulled into a balmy sort of tranquillity. There would be nothing else, just Sansa and her song, and the heavy sort of calm, like he might fall into slumber at any moment. 

There was no song today. Instead, she gave him a smile and traced the old scar across his brow. “If you’re not careful you’ll have more of these,” she said, “and those maids travelling far and wide with their lord fathers in the hopes of becoming your wife won’t find you as comely.”

Jon felt his brows draw together as he looked up at her. He’d forgotten about all that. The first to arrive will be due in a fortnight. “I’d like to tell them not to bother with the journey,” he unconsciously told her rosebud lips, “I’ve no want for a wife.”

Sansa simply arched a brow before finally moving away to place down the bowl of water and cotton rag. “And I’ve no want for another husband, and yet you receive ravens for my hand almost every other day.”

Jon flexed his sword hand. He’d not forgotten about that. He’d not forgotten about that at all. 

* * *

 

"I can’t believe you did it again,” Sansa panted into the crook of her elbow.

Jon’s head popped up from between her splayed thighs, his hair jutting out in all kinds of disarray from her desperate pawing whilst his mouth had been working its sorcery on her. “I’m quite sure we can work a third peak out of you soon,” he smirked, rubbing his beard on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

“No!  _No!_ ” she squealed, wiggling away. “I’m too sensitive! I yield! I yield!”

Chuckling as he rose from his place between her legs, Jon settled on top of her and gently nipped at her lips. “Not too sensitive for other things, I hope,” he rumbled into their kiss. Sansa sighed pleasantly and tilted her head to allow Jon to press his lips to her throat.


End file.
